


Inhale, Exhale

by nightdreamers



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drug Use, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One-Shot, Recreational Drug Use, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, angst if you squint, late night encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightdreamers/pseuds/nightdreamers
Summary: Unable to sleep, Oikawa Tooru pays a visit to his best friend.AKA two repressed idiots are cheesy
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Inhale, Exhale

**Author's Note:**

> HEY!!! THERE IS DRUG USE IN THIS!!! marijuana to be specific. so be comfortable with that before you continue.  
> anyway, this is just something i wrote up for fun, im trying to write haikyuu which is tough but idk i dont think this is too bad  
> enjoy :)

He’s becoming too acquainted with his ceiling.

It’s god-knows-what-o’clock, the last time he checked it was nearing midnight. The boy couldn’t bring himself to turn over and check again, partly for fear of the results, and partly for fear of losing the on-going staring contest he’s having. Oikawa blinks, and he swears the ceiling blinks back.

There’s an uneasy stillness around his room, he feels like he’s disrupting it. He should be sleeping, he’s never felt more exhausted, but some part of his brain just won’t shut off. He clenches his fists, then releases, flexes his toes and releases, pushes his shoulders back, then releases, trying to relieve some of the restlessness he feels. It doesn’t work, only furthers his urge to move, twist around, do anything but lie there and watch his ceiling.

He closes his eyes, too forcefully, trying to conjure up images of sheep or the ocean, something to lull him. All he sees is the ball, that flash of blue and yellow, dancing across his fingers, escaping his grip, plummeting to the floor, too close to the white line, it’s out of his control now it’s-

_ Out _ ! Signals the whistle of the referee. Oikawa jolts upright. 

He has to move, every part of him is twitching. His hands are in his lap,  _ clench, release, clench, release, grip the comforter until your knuckles turn white.  _ No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the game off of his mind. His teammates tried to encourage him, coach had to step in to talk to him because  _ he probably doesn’t trust you anymore _ , his opponents had those smug looks, even Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say.

Iwaizumi. He didn’t speak to Oikawa after the game, he was too exhausted from picking up his slack. He didn’t even have his usual “you-fucked-up” scowl on, he just looked disappointed.

Oikawa gets out of bed, fumbling a bit as he slides on his pajama pants, grabs a t-shirt. He has to know where he went wrong, what he needs to do, how he can never make those mistakes again. He uses the back door, having gone through this routine enough times to know his parents wouldn’t hear him. It’s cold, but Oikawa is so wired the chill barely affects him. Every set, every call, every spike is running over and over again in his mind as he hurries down the street, route memorized.

Iwaizumi’s window is already open.

Oikawa barely has a moment to question that before he’s knocking against the open glass, poking his head inside. “Iwa?”

The boy in question jumps like he’s going for a spike, nearly falling out of his desk chair. “ _ Fuck _ , Oikawa, you scared the shit out of me.” That permanent scowl is back, but not as strong, he looks tired.

“Good, you’re awake,” Oikawa replies as he climbs into the other’s room. “It smells in here,” he remarks, mostly to himself.

“It's probably just you stinking it up, does your phone not work or something?” Iwaizumi asks, closing out of whatever he was watching on his computer before fully turning to the other.

“I knocked. How long have I known you? You should be used to this,” Oikawa remarks, rushing through his words a bit.

Iwaizumi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky no one’s home, what do you want?”

“I, um, couldn’t sleep,” Oikawa says, taking a seat on the other's bed. “Okay, it’s not me, it seriously smells in here, what-”

The two boys lock eyes, exchanging bewildered expressions. Then, realization.

“Were you-?”

“Oikawa, wait-”

“Oh my god, you were!”

“No ones home-”

“And you tried to blame it on me?”

“It’s a friday night-”

“Iwa, you were smoking.”

Even in the dim light of the room, Oikawa can see the red flush to his friend’s cheeks, no matter how hard he tries to cover it. It’s quiet for some time, enough for Oikawa to piece together everything, his panic, the window open, that dazed look in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi finally concedes, exhaling the word. “Today was stressful, okay? I just wanted to take a break.”

Oikawa tenses.  _ He _ was the reason today was stressful, him and his performance during their game. “I’m sorry-”

“Do you-” Iwaizumi starts at the same time as him. The two share a little laugh, breaking down the strange tension that was building up. “Um, do you… want some?”

Every anti-drug assembly and health class he’s ever seen play through his head. Weed makes you lethargic, slows you down, makes you lazy, everything Oikawa didn’t want to be. But, Iwa’s using it. Responsible Iwa who hits the back of his head every time Oikawa’s not taking care of himself properly. Iwa who’s avoiding his gaze awkwardly, like he’s guilty of something.  _ Today was stressful _ , he had said. Without a word, Oikawa nods.

Iwaizumi reaches into a drawer in his desk, pulling out a lighter, a small brown piece of paper, and some cylindrical device. “Gimme a sec,” he says, getting to work.

Oikawa remains on the bed, legs crossed under him, fingers drumming on his knee. There’s still tension in his chest, he hasn’t forgotten why he’s awake right now in the first place. But, he keeps his focus on Iwaizumi’s hands, noticing the slight hesitancy in his movements. He can read the other’s body language like a book at this point. “How many times have you done this?”

“Just a few,” Iwaizumi responds, beginning to pack the fragrant bud into the center of the paper. “Mattsun showed me how,” he says, anticipating Oikawa’s next question.

Oikawa nods, a small smile crossing his lips at the image of Mattsun showing Iwaizumi how to roll, probably all proud of himself for knowing more than the other for once. The smile fades as he recalls Mattsun’s words from earlier,  _ “What is wrong with you today?” _ He probably didn’t mean it like that, but it stung.

“You’ve never before, right?” Iwaizumi asks, glancing up at his friend, breaking his train of thought.

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you if I did?” Oikawa replies, only realizing the irony in his lighthearted response afterward. It’s not lost on Iwaizumi, who only replies with a short nod. His attention is turned back to the slowly forming joint. He holds it up, tongue dashing over the edge of the paper before he continues to roll. Oikawa feels like he should’ve looked away for that part.

“Okay, window,” Iwaizumi finally announces, crossing the room. Oikawa follows behind him, hands still fidgeting. The sight of Iwaizumi holding the joint to his lips, brows knit slightly, eyes cast downward as he sparks up his lighter, it’s captivating. He turns towards the window, exhaling a puff of smoke with a light sigh. Then, he holds it out to Oikawa.

Gingerly, the setter takes it, just staring for a second, then looking back up at Iwaizumi.

The other understands his silent plea for help, leaning forward a bit as he speaks. “Take a breath before, relax, just inhale, hold it, exhale. Not too much, okay?”

Oikawa’s still hesitant, taking a deep breath in. Why was his heart pounding so much? What if he didn’t like the effects? What is he even doing here? And why is Iwaizumi staring at him like that?

“Hey,” Iwa’s hand comes to rest on his wrist, keeping him steady as he relights the joint. He must have been staring at it long enough for it to go out. “You don’t have to, Oikawa. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I want to,” Oikawa says. He holds the joint to his lips, he wants to relax, get his mind off of today, he wants to know how Iwaizumi feels right now, to be in the same space as him.

For some reason.

On his exhale, Oikawa coughs, feeling a sting in the back of his throat, a new pit forming in his chest. Iwaizumi can’t help but laugh, handing him a bottle of water he’d already had by the window. “Not so deep, breath with your chest, slowly.” It reminds him of how Iwaizumi would help him calm down before a game, though much less demanding now.

After drinking some water, he tries again, taking his friend’s advice. It’s better this time, he still coughs, just not as much. Iwaizumi takes it back for a drag and Oikawa feels a pang when he sees how easy it is for him. The two sit like that in silence for some time, passing it back and forth with unspoken rhythm.

“I think that’s enough for you,” Iwaizumi says, leaving the joint to sit on his windowsill, still about half left. He gets up with a little stretch, going back to sit on his bed, lean against the wall. Oikawa, who was just starting to get comfortable with the joint, follows suit. He sits at the foot of the bed, trying to relax. He’s waiting for it, whatever “it” is supposed to feel like, he just knows he’s waiting.

“You wanna tell me why you really came over?” Iwaizumi asks, breaking a strange, heavy silence in the room.

“I couldn’t-”

“I know you couldn’t sleep. Now tell me  _ why _ ,” he demands now, head tilted to the side expectantly.

Oikawa takes a breath, still feeling that sting from coughing so much. “We almost lost today.”

“I know, I was there.”

Oikawa shoots him a little glare before continuing. “It’s my fault.” He waits again, waits for Iwaizumi to tell him he’s wrong, that everyone has bad days, that he shouldn’t be so hard on himself, like he always does. Instead, he’s met with those piercing eyes again, he’s never felt so looked at before. “I don’t know what went wrong. I was feeling weird going into it, I messed up my first serve, it threw me off. And the other team knew it, I can tell what they’re thinking. ‘The great king’s off his game, this is our chance!’ It’s so smug I can’t stand it. It just felt like nothing was working, I was moving too slow, I couldn’t even control it. And everyone knew. They knew something was wrong with me and I was just messing the game up for everyone. Mattsun asked what was wrong with me, I couldn’t even respond.”

Oikawa stops, un-clenches his fists, looks back to Iwaizumi. It’s different now, he can’t put his finger on it. He just feels lighter, the room feels light, everything’s twisting but still at the same time. “How long was I just talking for?” He asks, the weight of his words still present. His mouth is dry.

Iwaizumi can’t help but crack a smile, lifting a hand up to cover his mouth. “Not as long as you think,” is his reply. “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa says, shifting to face the other now and  _ wow _ his bed is soft. Iwaizumi notices his reaction, handing him a pillow to lean on. “Fuzzy.”

Iwaizumi chuckles this time, Oikawa smiles and he doesn’t know why. “I mean, now that you got all that off your chest.”

“Oh,” Oikawa hums. Everything before this exact moment feels like it was so long ago, his vent, laying in his bed. He’s here right now, with Iwa, that’s all he needs to be. “Better, I think.”

“Good, because I never wanna hear some bullshit like that again,” Iwaizumi responds, going back to his usual tone. Oikawa quirks a brow, didn’t he just ask him to talk about how he felt? “You had a shitty game. Sure, it was a  _ really _ shitty game-”

“That’s hurtful-”

“But it’s over now. We won, you’re not always going to be the reason why. Everyone on our team trusts you for a reason. We’ve seen you play like it’s a death match, one bad game isn’t going to ruin everyone’s faith in you. I’ve seen you at your worst  _ and _ your best, and I admire both of those.”

Oikawa sits up a bit, propped up on his arm. “Why would you admire my worst?”

“I dunno, that’s when you’re the most driven.”

Of course, Iwaizumi likes watching him push himself. Oikawa wonders if he knows that he’s the reason why. “Why did you say anything to me after the game today?” He asks, once more sitting upright. The question just spills out of him, he didn’t even realize it was bothering him that much. Even Iwaizumi looks startled by it, leaning back as Oikawa draws near.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” he mumbles, looking off at nothing in particular. “When you beat yourself up. I knew you were angrier at yourself than anyone in that gym, nothing I could’ve said would’ve helped.”

Oikawa snorts back a laugh, pressing the back of his hand to his lips. “Iwa, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you cared about me.”

This earns him a punch on the arm. “Oh shut up, Shittykawa, I just don’t want you moping around on the court.”

Oikawa rubs his arm, laughing. Then, he whispers, “Holy shit.”

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, leaning forward a bit with an expression of concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “I just feel it.”

There’s that infectious laugh again, how long has it been since they goofed like this? How long have they been goofing off for? The boys laugh until they forget what was so funny, then crack up all over again the moment they make eye contact once more.

“Hang on, hang on,” Iwaizumi grabs his phone off his nightstand, flipping through his music. Oikawa looks on, his head pressing against the top of the other’s as he scrolls. Finally, music fills the room, playing from Iwaizumi’s speaker. It’s something Oikawa doesn’t recognize, Western maybe, that acoustic type of rock that Iwa’s always listening to. Normally, he’d complain about the choice, he’s always hated on Iwa’s music just to piss him off. But, it sounds different now.

“Make it louder,” he asks, finally pulling away from his friend. Iwaizumi complies and Oikawa leans back against the wall, taking a breath. The bass is vibrating through the whole room, through him, and Oikawa thinks this might be the prettiest song he’s ever heard, despite the slight grit to it.

“No complaints?” Iwaizumi asks, the question genuine.

“You speaking is ruining it,” Oikawa says, shooting him a playful glare. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes in response. “Is this just what you do? Smoke and listen to music?”

“I mean, for the few times I’ve smoked, yeah this is kind of it,” he replies, scrolling through his phone to queue up more songs. “Why? You bored?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “No, no, I’m just asking.”

With a light shrug, Iwaizumi gets off the bed, heading back to the window. Oikawa gives him a questioning gaze. “I just want a little more, had to make sure your ass was okay first.”

“I’ll have you know my ass isn’t  _ okay _ , it’s perfect,” Oikawa says with a snarky grin. He joins his friend by the window, the two sitting on the floor, backs to the wall.

“That’s a load of crap,” Iwaizumi snorts, grabbing the joint and his lighter. Once again, Oikawa finds himself staring as his friend holds the joint between his lips, sparking up. The flame, as brief as it flashes, looks so pretty reflecting in his eyes. He takes a puff, leaning his head back as he exhales, closing his eyes. Oikawa smiles.

“You used to give me shit for staying out past curfew,” he says, turning slightly to face the other.

“And?” Iwaizumi replies, quirking a brow.

“And now you do  _ this _ ,” Oikawa says, gesturing to the fading cloud of smoke.

“I don’t  _ ‘do’ _ anything, I’m just messing around. What, are you judging me?”

Oikawa shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I mean, I joined you. I’m just thinking about how weird it is that I’m here.”

“You break into my house at least once a week, it’s not that weird.”

Oikawa sighs, once more shaking his head. “No, I mean that I’m here with  _ you. _ ” The two look at each other, mutual expressions of surprise. “Not like that- shit, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say. I just, I’ve known you forever and you still surprise me sometimes.”

Iwaizumi has a faint smile on his lips, eyes half-lidded as he raises his brows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Once again, the truth is just spilling out of him, he can’t even keep track of what he’s saying, he’s losing his own train of thought despite how it continues on. “I didn’t know you admire me.”

Iwaizumi’s smile fades, he looks off again, the same expression he had on earlier. “Of course I do, who wouldn’t?”

“A lot of people,” Oikawa scoffs. “You want me to list them?”

“They don’t see you like I do. If any of them knew you, really knew you, they’d feel the same way.” Iwaizumi has to light it again, the joint dancing between his fingers as he gesticulates.

“Iwa,” is all he can get out, not expecting a response like that.  _ Say something back, say something now- _ “You know you’re one of the reasons why.”

“Why what?”

“Why I couldn’t fall asleep. You didn’t say anything to me after the game, I thought you were really pissed,” Oikawa shrinks, he didn’t mean to bring the game back up.

“That keeps you up at night?”

Wordlessly, he nods. There’s nothing else to be said about it, Iwaizumi seems to understand the feelings he can’t quite articulate. To stop himself from continuing on, Oikawa asks, “Can I get another hit?”

Iwaizumi just smirks, shaking his head. “I think you may have had enough.”

“Don’t be such a mom, come on,” Oikawa says, a slight whine to his voice.

“Don’t call me that,” Iwa replies, letting out a breath. “Open your mouth, inhale in a second.”

Oikawa’s expression questions him enough. Iwaizumi takes another hit, bigger this time, then leans in close. His senses are flooded, the heat of the other’s face so close, warming up his cheeks, warming up his face, he smells smoke and body wash, today’s leftover cologne. Iwaizumi’s eyes are focused again, looking down to Oikawa’s lips, parted open. He blows smoke inside. “Inhale.”

Oikawa does, sucking in the smoke like it’ll somehow keep Iwaizumi this close to him. He holds it, watching as the other pulls back tentatively. Then, he exhales, letting the cloud lazily drift between them. 

Iwaizumi’s lips curve into a smile, and then they’re pressed against Oikawa’s.

The kiss feels  _ right _ in every sense of the word. Like two puzzle pieces finally snapping into place. The two can listen to each other without speaking, the same silent communication they have during a game. Oikawa parts his lips, Iwaizumi tilts his head, Oikawa turns his body, Iwaizumi presses a hand on either side of him. They kiss like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen each other, like they’re putting everything on the line, like they’ve been waiting for this their whole lives. Oikawa releases every little piece of built-up tension in his body, it feels like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding his whole life. Iwaizumi, Iwaziumi who is all sharp edges and quick retorts, feels like a breath of fresh air. They’ve spent enough time together to read every movement, Oikawa knows exactly how he’s checking  _ is this okay _ and  _ more _ , just with his lips. He can tell when Iwaizumi is ready to stop, the two boys pulling back in unison.

They share the same face, cheeks flushed, blinking rapidly, unable to break eye contact. Oikawa feels fuzzy and tingly and  _ electric _ . Iwaizumi hovers over him, chest rising and falling quickly.

The boys laugh, falling into each other because  _ how did this take so long? _

When they kiss again, Oikawa makes sure to properly admire everything about his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> literally i saw so many haikyuu fics where they smoke and its so clear the writer has never seen a marijuana before. let me be ur stoner haikyuu mom, readers. i got u.  
> also if you have anything constructive about how i wrote iwa and oikawa pls lmk im new to writing them! this is my first shot!  
> thank you so much for reading i really appreciate it!  
> check me out on tumblr! @nightttdreamers . send me a fic request in my inbox, maybe ill write you up a drabble :)


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